


cicatrix

by loveiscosmicsin



Category: Final Fantasy 15, Final Fantasy Versus 13, Final Fantasy Versus XIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Allusion to canon character with slight differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Female Mutilation, Fic based off art, Fleuret sisters, Gen, High Commander Stella Nox Fleuret, Stella is a character from Versus XIII and she replaces Ravus in XV verse here, Supreme Commander Stella Nox Fleuret, character replacement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10072811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveiscosmicsin/pseuds/loveiscosmicsin
Summary: Stretching back to First Oracle Stellaluna the Visionary, as ordained by the Draconian, it’s in their blood, their mother’s blood, their family’s blood and future generations would bear the curse. House of Nox Fleuret were born into this, it was their destiny to be dealt with the cards given to them.Stella, the big sister, determinator and resistor of fate; by no means a selfless protector and willing to participate in destruction to achieve her goals.And Luna, the little sister, loyal to a fault and steadfast martyr disposed to demise; conscientious of her own concealed half-truths and half-lies.They knew how this would end. Free will’s an illusion.





	1. cicatrix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Owlteria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlteria/gifts).



> Warning: there are themes of abuse, trauma, and mutilation. Could contain FFXV spoilers, but alterations to the canon narrative and objects. Features Stella and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret as sisters, Stella is 19 years old and Luna at 16. 
> 
> Personally, I like Ravus despite the contradictions in his portrayals. I have more sympathy for him than I ever would for Luna (despite their screen time was effectively touching and they do love each other, I really feel for those two siblings on a whole, this woman asked him to deliver the very ring that stole his arm without any consideration that he might be averse to touching the ring at all (nice save, Ravus, for saying Luna gotta do it there but she still left you to your own devices in Insomnia) and the very fact that she’ll only care about Noctis & her life and purpose strictly revolved around that person alone (except when it comes to telling him the truth of their destiny, Noct did have the right to know). Poor Ravus, he has loved and done more for Luna than she ever has and would for him), and the potential he could’ve had and more, all the more reason to turn to fandom, friends, and RP blogs that actually give justice to the characters. I would write about three Fleuret siblings and how those dynamics would work in XV without replacing roles and flesh them out, but today’s not the day I do that. Putting aside my dislike of Luna and the fact that the entire plot wouldn’t change if she was written out or replaced with a flower vase or a flashlight, this focuses on sisterhood and how two women endured as captives of their nation’s conquerors, less on their feelings on Noctis because that’s all Ravus and Luna talked about in all their screen time, save for a few cutscenes, boo. Trust me, whenever I write Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, I write her seriously and give her characterization in whatever scenario pleases me, but she’s really difficult to write when she didn’t have much of a character to begin with.

I can’t believe this saved me from writer’s block and I get easily inspired. Based off @Owlteria’s High Commander Stella Nox Fleuret artwork, canon divergence/character replacement of Ravus with key differences and headcanons <http://owlteria.tumblr.com/post/157546099172/stella-nox-fleuret-based-on-this-interesting>  
Thank you for privately sending me a close up of Stella’s prominent battle scar and letting me write fics to this, Owl. I might do more of these. I do miss Stella and the many interpretations I did have of her.

 

-

 

“You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you…”  
\- George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, #1)

 

-

 

Scars glowed in the moonlight, faded by time, almost nonexistent and silver in contrast to the young woman’s sun-kissed skin and the coarse white garment around her shoulders.

She had lost count of each wound inflicted onto her, but they never went forgotten in the stories they carried. As much as the owner would wish to forget, an exercise in remembrance was conducted before closing her eyes.

The scars danced just as they were vivid and striking to the eyes, restless under the shadows and animated when the heat of battle was upon her. As they were suffocating, she embraced them for they shaped her into the survivor and veteran she was today. The moment the dethroned princess assumed the role as a empire’s glaive, it was also the moment her old life had ended. She forfeited luxurious gowns and silverware no heavier than her pinky finger for a body that begets scars and a rapier that cleaved through many.

But it was her choice and she held no regrets.  

Lieutenant Stella Nox Fleuret wasn’t a savior, conqueror, heroine, or villain, not even a superhero or a creature of myth. She was no man either and that presented a glaring degree of antagonism in her precarious situation.

The jagged crimson gash on her right breast served as testament of this. It took the form of a mocking sneer, the very expression her attackers bore when they did this.

Stella examined the damage: a clump of flesh was barely hanging on at the peak of her breast.

Molten iron had went through her in an instant. Immense pain buffeted her before Stella’s brain made the connection that she had been stabbed. She was only given a moment before ordered to continue training in this condition, time enough to apply a gauze patch. Blood had seeped through the bandage and uniform by the time she returned.

The steel letter opener gleamed in the light as she made quick work of ridding the belittled flesh. Before she could contemplate against the notion, the young woman seized a potion and doused the liquid over the wound. A blue hue surfaced before it broke into a mass of white foam that hissed and stung. Blood and curative intertwined and spilled over her stomach and the waistband of her trousers. It would take more than potions to restore her, another scar accounted for.

An attack on her sex.

The lieutenant’s rapid ascension in the ranks was a farce. Though skilled in the blade and the oath sworn, her origins as a Tenebraen noblewoman couldn’t be denied. It caused tension among comrades and led them to question her leadership. Aside from several verbal confrontations, never before had they harmed her.

And it won’t be the last. But she will endure.

Enlisting in the military was the better alternative than allowing Niflheim to give her away in marriage to whoever they choose. She refused to be anyone’s property and have her autonomy stripped away. It was an unfathomable concept of having no right to refuse a husband’s advances and worse outcomes on top of that. She loathed the notion of turning to a man like that to save her sister, not when she was more accustomed to doing anything in her power for family by her own hands.  

The curative ceased bubbling, the bleeding at a minimal, but sorrow welled behind Stella’s eyes; she squeezed them shut. It was painful playing this role, it was as though she hadn’t been herself for years, a branded traitor to her people, of her femininity, and hound at the Empire’s beck and call. There was no doubt in her mind that there would be more roles she would adopt later on.

Three knocks politely prompted the woman out of her thoughts.

“Lady Stellafreyr, Lady Lunafreya seeks an audience with you.”

Ah, of course. Stella had returned to the manor of her childhood. Whatever did possess her to do that? Perhaps it was to regain some normalcy of the life thought long-lost or to maybe hear the attached name she had derived from her late-father. Stella was essentially the “lord” of House Fleuret still, when and should she be present within its halls. She had asked the chamberlain and servants to leave her be, but Lunafreya had caught wind of the lieutenant’s uneventful homecoming.

“A moment!” Stella requested as she took off her bloody garment, draped it around the instruments used and sent them a hurried kick to the side. She found a clean shirt waiting on the bed and put it on. “Come in, Lunafreya.”

The youngest Oracle in history and the younger Fleuret sibling walked past the parted doors that closed behind her immediately. “Stella!” She cried out before dashing toward the elder sibling and immersed her into a tight embrace.

Stella gasped, recoiling from the overzealous display of affection. The teenager released her.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Stella steeled herself through clenched teeth. It took everything in her willpower not to scream and tears pricked at her eyes at the effort. Surely, the bleeding had returned. She forced a smile as she gripped the Oracle at the elbows, “It is so good to see you…”

Luna wasn’t impressed. “It’s been three months since we last saw each other. I cannot turn a blind eye when you can barely stand before me…”

It was in every sister’s instinct to veil the cruelest realities from her sibling, placate them in a fantasy world and assure them that everything would be all right. Stella wouldn’t dare hide anything of that nature from Luna. Luna tended to instigate and inquire even when it wasn’t the best time or place to do so.

“Who did this to you?” Luna held a hand against her lips, mortified.

This world they lived in was merciless and savage, it would not be a mercy to shield Luna from it. It would condemn her if Stella did. It wouldn’t be love if transparency wasn’t the basis of their relationship. Luna was free to formulate her own opinions, right and wrong, as Stella offered nothing but the truth.

“That is irrelevant.” Stella answered honestly and it was the truth. As of now, Luna wasn’t at risk to receive the same treatment. The Oracle’s beauty was far more prized than a soldier’s.

“Irrelevant?” Luna echoed. “I do not understand…” Her short blonde locks hid her troubled features as she shook her head. Her gaze fell to the discarded rolled-up garment on the floor.

Stella moved to button her shirt.

“Let me heal you,” Luna placed her hands over Stella’s, her wet eyes pleading. “Gentiana has been teaching—”

“No.”

Luna refused to relent. “Why?”

Because you shouldn’t waste your gift on a pitiful wretch like me.

There was irony that her life was inconsequential compared to the Oracle’s yet, in vain, Stella breathed meanings into the ever-changing world, constantly differentiating ideals from reality.

It’s a bloodline that Stella and Luna descended from. Stretching back to First Oracle Stellaluna the Visionary, as ordained by the Draconian, it’s in their blood, their mother’s blood, their family’s blood and future generations would bear the curse. House of Nox Fleuret were born into this, it was their destiny to be dealt with the cards given to them.

Stella lived for Luna’s sake, to protect her, from others and especially from herself. Luna was chosen by the divine to heal mankind of the plague and guide the King of Light to ascension. Stella was gifted by their ancestors as well, but all too familiar with aberrant lifespans associated with Oracles. The elder Fleuret would undoubtedly outlive her younger sister.  

“What has been done is done. It will heal on its own.” Stella consoled, patting the younger Fleuret’s hands. Wounds heal just as Stella similarly suffered Commander Ulldor’s lash when she leapt to protect Luna. Those wounds healed but there was no justice served for the trauma, merely a decreed suspension.

“If you won’t let me use my power,” Luna began, “may I treat it with what you have?”

Luna was always a tenacious soul, that trait must be in their blood. Once she set her mind on something, there was no other alternative.

Stella lowered her hands. “Very well…”

The moon shined bright at the darkest hour, leaving very few truths hidden in its awakening, but the shadows cast were places many dared not tread. Stella was the constellations that surrounded Luna’s moon, together they were untamed celestial bodies. Even when the moon went through cycles of concealment, at least the stars remained the jewels of the sky. What was the night without the moon and stars?

Luna rifled through all the drawers in the room and brought out a candle stick, a pack of matches, a potion, and a sewing kit. She coaxed the elder Fleuret to take a seat and began. The Oracle watched the imperial lieutenant’s expression as thread and needle punctured and slid through flesh but Stella stared out the window.

“How goes your training under the Messenger?” Stella asked, recalling Luna’s letters of how privileged she felt to be under the tutelage of a benevolent ally and attendant, her partner in divine.

“Gentiana has been a wonderful mentor, but I’m afraid I’m burdening her with my pace. She assigned me to a plant, not native to Tenebrae, and I could barely manage in sustaining it.”

Stella knew what plant the Oracle spoke of. Gentiana, utterly devoted to Luna since the day she was born, had visited Stella on a few occasions to discuss the Oracle’s growth. The dark-haired woman presented the lieutenant an illustrious flower with tiny azure petals in bloom from a delicate stem. It bore no name as the Messenger informed the christening would be in Luna’s honor to give. If the flower was properly cultivated, each and every one of them could bloom exclusively in Tenebrae, from hill to vale.

“Has she raised her voice to you?”

“No, quite the opposite and it worries me. She saw what I’ve been able to do with the trident close by yet advised that I must draw power from within than outward. How could I be so far in my training but not one bit close to completing it? I fail to understand how gardening ties in with my duties.”

Luna may not understand it now, but Stella had a picture retained in her head after the meeting with the Messenger. The Oracle’s office was the symbol of the peace and the flora reverently tended by her hands would be synonymous to the love she indiscriminately held for all life. Hope flourished so long as the Oracle’s promise to protect the world rung true.

“It is difficult now, but it will become second nature. Remember that mother had endured the same trials and shared the same thoughts as you have. Patience yields focus.”

Luna glanced up from her work, bowing her head. “Thank you, sister.”

“I trust that you’ve been living well here?” Stella wondered aloud. As the woman advanced in the ranks, she saw to exploiting the privileges attained so that Luna could live a normal life.

“Yes, you needn’t worry. The guards haven’t laid a hand on me.”

There was a lull in their conversation before Stella brought up a proposal, “I’m relocating to you to Alfheim tomorrow.”

“Does that mean that we’ll be living together?” Luna’s eyes gleamed happily and it warmed Stella’s heart to see that fondness after some time apart.

Fenestala Manor was Luna’s current residence and home of the royal family. Alfheim Manor was Stella’s personal manor, constructed shortly before Tenebrae’s fall, intended as a gift to the heir apparent when she came of age. As the owner would describe it, the manor was a gracious realm of light and beauty, lush gardens suitable for the dogs to run about, libraries with thick tomes for Luna to lose herself to, it was paradise.

“My apologies…” Stella regrettably stated, “I have taken residence in the barracks as of late. Maria, Lady Gentiana, Umbra, and Pryna will be permitted to live there with you. You have my word that you can live there comfortably. All that you desire will be catered to you.”

“All save for one…” Luna replied, crestfallen.

“This arrangement will allow me to come see you with ease. But given my increasingly demanding duties, I cannot promise how often I’ll be able to do so. Pack what you require tonight and I’ll send an escort by morning.”

“No,” Luna objected, “I’ll remain here in the manor.”

“Why?”

“It is our family’s home. I cannot abandon it. Many eyes watch me now that it doesn’t matter where I go. I am still in imperial custody.”

Those crystal eyes may one day be clouded by resentment for Stella’s actions but the commander will always be sincere about her motives. Luna would hold her accountable for a villain or a fool hell-bent on revenge. She submitted herself to the will of the sovereign, but she was no slave to the past or the temptation of power. Stella would be the wielder of her emotions, an impregnable aegis, rather than to be blinded by them.

But Stella had one weakness, one that proved that her walls were all but infallible, when the world had truly failed and hope lingered in a name: Luna.

Luna was Stella’s weakness, a lighthouse for lost travelers at sea, the first rain after an agonizing drought, a haven for foolhardy adventurers. On the day fires ravaged Tenebrae, Luna stayed behind and despite all that transpired afterwards, she bore no ill-will towards King Regis and Prince Noctis, uttered little of the duties expected of her. The blind faith and eminent compassion she held made her a perfect sacrifice to the Astrals than Stella ever would. Defiance was frowned down upon, direct descendant or not.

It was baffling to believe the Luna before her now was the same Luna who Stella mounted a wild spiracorn for when the younger sibling wailed endlessly on a renegade chocobo. Luna held firmly to the reins of her fate, Stella wasn’t ready to release those reins just yet.

Laughter bubbled out of the elder Fleuret’s lips.

Luna’s eyes widened. “Why are you—” She frowned, flustered. “This is no laughing matter!”

Stella wrapped her arms around her sibling’s neck and stroked her hair, the mirth absent as brief as it came. She cannot remember the last time she had laughed freely, it must’ve been a startling sight. “No, it’s not and that’s all right.” She muttered somberly as she watched the short strands escape her fingers. “I still have you, Lunafreya, and you’re all I need. I beg you, don’t grow up too fast.”


	2. vanitas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: “Apollo” by Think Up Anger
> 
> “Your heart desire will come, but when it comes, you desire for another, and when it comes again, you still aspire for another, that shows your level of ingratitude.”  
> \- Michael Bassey Johnson

Stella remembered Tenebrae.

Its majestic fields, lush grasslands, daunting mountains, and radiant waterfalls served as natural barriers to the rest of the world. It was the homeland of farmers, historians, and of course, the royal family of Tenebrae.

She recalled being constantly scolded by caretakers for admiring the sights from an unconventional place — a seat by an open window on the forty-seventh floor. It would’ve brought them great tragedy and chagrin if the future queen of Tenebrae were to plunge to her death because of a starry-eyed endeavor, but Stella relished their incessant fretting nearly as much as basking in the sun’s gentle rays. Loneliness was the least of her concerns, not when there were loved ones that cared for her well-being in their own secular ways. But too much of it at once and the heiress sought for a different perspective or stimulating activity to occupy herself.

It had been some time since Stella stepped foot on Tenebrae’s fertile soil.

The everlasting tranquility resonated towards noblewoman as though there was a pulse. She was drawn to the calling of home.

She managed to enter the piazza without detection, without grand announcement, and made way to the stables. A goal in mind was instantly derailed when her gaze fell upon a vast lake. She used to swim with classmates during academic retreats and by the quay, they had fawned over haute couture, blushed on the topic of bodice rippers, and exhausted every subject that adolescents were only concerned about. Stella may had not participated actively, but she couldn’t resist listening on. This was also the same lake that she had begged a boy, a page, to teach her how to fish. Stella surpassed the lessons and had passed them on to…

_"Stella! Look, I caught one! I caught one! Did you see—!"_

The woman winced, touching her temple. She had taught someone how to fish, but concentrating was futile to distinguish a face and a name associated to it. A boy’s voice calling out to her was radio static to her ears. A chrome wheelchair, cobalt eyes that rivaled the glorious sea, arms raised to present a flailing fish, the applause and laughter that thundered… Everything about that little boy was familiar but failed to register in her mind. It was as if she wasn’t supposed to remember, and yet a wave of wrath washed over her. She shook her head and hurried along, the compulsion to head to the stables stronger than earlier.

"Hello, Epona.”

A lone spiracorn roused at attention and shifted to the narrow opening of her pasture, undoubtedly delighted to see her mistress. Despite infernal eyes staring back as endless as the abyss and a skeleton-like body akin to an harbinger of death, Epona was very much alive. Stella had painstakingly brushed bristles, supple tail, and luxurious mane until they were glossy.

“Easy, easy,” Stella cautioned firmly as she held up her hands. The verbal command was reasonable enough for the beast to quell her excitement. The woman reached into a basket and presented a Caem carrot on a flat palm. Though the vegetable had a repugnant aftertaste, she knew that spiracorns savored it. Epona’s teeth grazed flesh before she took the carrot. “Good girl.” The Crown Heiress cooed as she stroked the muzzle. “That’s my Epona.”

Stella always had an affinity to fauna for as long as she could remember. It must’ve been a gift from the gods. Spiracorns were creatures of the wild who traveled in herds, too willful and territorial to be domesticated, and should humans approach them they face the wrath of their spurred hocks or risk being trampled to death. As stories, myth or history, traversed in Eos, crown citizens of Tenebrae have one of a certain princess who managed to tame a spiracorn. There were no gimmicks or tomfoolery involved, Stella merely bowed before the creature and demonstrated a formidable will that couldn’t be ignored.

Stories were but stories, they could be skewed or misunderstood entirely. Stella met Epona the day she took Lunafreya out to teach her how to ride a chocobo. The riding lesson took an unexpected turn when the spooked bird out and bolted. The young princess was scared out of her wits to properly restrain the animal. The elder Fleuret couldn’t possibly chase after them on foot so she resorted to riding the back on a wandering spiracorn. A risky move, but had the heir apparent not acted, Stella wouldn’t had seized the reins in time before Luna and the chocobo plummeted down a cliff. The rider may had been desperate in saving her sister, but the steed chose her mistress that day forward.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Lunafreya, have you? I’ve done her a great disservice by seeking you out first.” The spiracorn raised her head as if offended by that statement. Stella scratched the space between her ears in consolation, avoiding the intertwined horns. “But I’m delighted to see you again, my old friend.”

The spiracorn huffed and snorted, banging at the stall door when she sensed that her mistress’s attention was waning. Epona was restless, she only behaved this way after long periods of inactivity. Stella was the only one permitted to ride her.

“We’ll ride again soon. I promise.”

A prodigious banner embroidered _Stellafreyr Nox Fleuret CXV_ greeted the native daughter of Tenebrae. It was her true ascension, she was queen by birthright and a revolution had to be waged to reclaim the throne. Peace had returned to Tenebrae. Stella honored the face of her mother and the name that had belonged to her father, Freyr, a man she had no recollection of meeting. Mother was gone, she had passed on a little over a decade. Though Queen Sylva’s daughters were all that remained of the royal family, Stella hadn’t fully recovered from the loss and aimed to overcome the shadows of the war, moving past her mother’s legacy and making her own mark in the world.

A melodious and somber song resounded from within the castle, sending shivers down Stella’s spine. No words could describe the profound effect it had on the woman but she was captivated to the siren’s call.

Tenebraen oak surrounded the cathedral, invasive branches and vines stretched out to recover the land occupied by buildings. Many times did a young princess dared to scale those trees, surmounting the limitations presented before her. Thorns tore at her skirt and clawed gangly legs, the scratches then faded away in light of maturation and beauty, her spirit remained stronger than ever.

Kneeling in the hallowed grounds was a woman dressed in an ivory summer dress, her back turned to Stella. Lunafreya had been singing the eerie ballad. The older Fleuret hadn’t heard her sing in a long time, the time under imperial rule stole her desire to and discord riddled chords, worn akin to the whirring of gears within Magitek Troops.

Flowers as bright as precious gems populated the interior of the building. Stella had seen these flora before. The enigmatic Messenger Gentiana had presented them and had offered nothing but praise in the young Oracle’s efforts in cultivating them. They became recognized as Tenebrae’s national flower, no other land could raise them and many people prized them for celebrations. In commemoration of the flowers, the Oracle had the honor of naming of them. She had disclosed on what they were named but—

“These are…” Stella raised a hand and a lone petal floated down on her palm. The singing died down and the woman glanced up, the velvet crushed between her fingers.

“Sylleblossoms,” Luna rose to her feet, dusting blue petals off her lap. Despite the lighthearted hum in her voice, her words carried off as melancholic. “I’ve personally watered them myself and now they bloomed heavenly from hill to vale. You never lost faith in me when I had my doubts that they would thrive under my care, dear sister.”

“Patience—” Stella began, remembering that Luna had openly milled about her own skepticism.

“Yields focus.” Luna finished with finesse. “I try not to lose my focus or commitment whenever I recited your wise words to myself.”

“What have you been doing here?”

“Waiting.” Turning to face her older sister, Stella’s eyes fell upon a wreath of sylleblossoms in Luna’s hands. “I’ve been weaving a crown befitting of Tenebrae’s true queen.” Luna brought the flower crown to her temple, lips poised in reverent prayer. “Long may she reign.”

“Is this a new tradition as decreed by the Crown Princess?” Queen Stella may be brash and headstrong, but she always minded her courtesies. When she bowed, Luna mimicked the greeting as she raised the sides of her skirt and bent her knees deeply. “Crowns sewn with flowers?” Stella simpered as she straightened her posture, eyes following Luna’s.

Queen and Oracle were simply designations and roles they met. Never would Stella desire for Luna to treat her as something grandiose. They were family. Tenebrae was their kingdom and she wanted Luna to stand by her, not follow. Nothing should ever come between them. Formalities were antiquated inventions of yore. House Fleuret shall create a world just as they envisioned.

“And as decreed by your Oracle,” The Princess Oracle placed the crown on monarch’s head. “Welcome home, Stella.” She smiled as she closed the distance between them.

This was it, Stella was finally home.

Before Stella could encircle her arms around her sister, pain shot through her.

And it penetrated her defense in a vicious twist.

Immediately, Stella shoved back and Luna fell backwards as though she was a marionette with her strings cut.

Stella brought a hand to the source of the pain. The blood trickled through her fingers like molten lava. In Luna’s hand was a dagger, no bigger than a pen, stained with crimson.

As Luna slowly rose to her feet, Stella fell to her knees, clutching the wound.

Altissia… The Fleuret sisters were in the City on the Sea, weeks later after the incident…

Luna’s fair face was bloated and secreted a vile substance from the wounds, riddled with a disease that had been killing her since the beginning. Her body, frozen like ice, was already showing signs of decay but Stella embraced Luna tightly, unable to let go, desperate to return the warmth of life back into her. It took the High Commander weeks to recover her sister and when the army came, she didn’t resist arrest.

It became glaringly apparent that all the previous events and sights were merely illusions. Memories that were locked to her came flooding back.

Twelve years ago, the Empire of Niflheim conquered the Kingdom of Tenebrae. The monstrosities they waged against hapless civilians eclipsed the sun in layers of smoke and ash. Edifices, libraries, tombs, and properties were looted and seized. All bodies of water grew polluted and unfit for consumption. Epona was cornered and ultimately slain, a fate shared by all wildlife caught in the chaos. Stella witnessed all she cherished fall before her in the days that followed, helpless to do anything to stop it.

“L-Luna… Freya…” Stella gasped as she pleadingly looked up at the devil bearing her sibling’s face.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was dead.

Stella loved her, fought with her as an ally and adversity to see her safe, to see that they would no longer be prisoners in gilded cages. The elder Fleuret held on tightly, afraid to let go and yet, Luna was gone.

The blade caught a space in her shoulder blade. What was once flesh and blood was replaced by a metal casing, flesh ended at the shoulder and alloy extended from there.

“I should have been at your side until my dying breath… Until all of me was rendered useless… Oh, Lunafreya…”

“You’ve built your entire life around my existence. Doesn’t it get exhausting when I offer little in return?” Lunafreya, no, the devil seized the fallen commander’s chin in her hand, painting blood in amused strokes. “Did you think I had any interest in leaked information when all that clogged my pretty little head was the wedding and Prince Noctis?”

Stella jerked her head away. “Cease this charade at once!”

“Threatening your baby sister now? You always thought the universe of me.” The vengeful apparition’s smile was all wrong as she leaned down, hands behind her back. “You love me, do you not, Stella?”

“You’re not my sister…” Stella had longed to hear her beloved sister’s voice once more but to hear her voice radically upbraid her brought nothing but devastation.

“Hmm? You don’t look so certain. I’m either fair Lady Lunafreya you failed to save or your guilty conscience, take your pick. I’ll wait.”

“You dare make a mockery of her—!”

“How do you know I’m not simply channeling the undisclosed secrets of her heart? She was so kind, so kind to admit the truth, only to speak up when the burdens grew heavy and even then, she lied. Who could blame her for resenting you? Her older sister was overbearing and mediocre, an unreliable protector and submissive lapdog at best. Alas, it was a mercy that she couldn’t see what your actions wrought in the end.”

Stella somehow knew this wasn’t an illusion. Her homeland was in flames and civilians scrambled in fear. She had failed Tenebrae as a princess, soldier, and future queen. “What is this? Why am I responsible for this?”

“You only have yourself to blame, Commander Fleuret. You went back on your oath for your beloved sister.” The demonic entity hummed, eyes closed as she relished in Stella’s confusion. “Ah, I do believe I’ve earned the right to call you ‘Stella’. May I? You no longer possess the rank, after all.”

Stella didn’t give the Lunafreya the satisfaction of an answer.

“Ah, what’s the matter? The despair and loneliness finally settling in?”

“I’m… alone?”

“Not for long,” the devil raised her hand. “You are cordially invited to the death of your dreams.” She concluded with a snap of her fingers and everything went black.

-

Stella woke up with a start, shortness of breath overtaking her as she clutched her chest. A man’s voice cried out in alarm.

She recognized him as one of Prince Noctis’ royal retinue, the plucky sharpshooter who retreated behind the strategist and didn’t hesitate to run to the sworn Shield’s side after the commander dispensed a lesson on humility. Just what was he doing here?

As Stella’s eyes adjusted to the dimmed lights, she masked her discomfort with a haughty, “Aren’t you little short for a sentry?”

The sharpshooter was exceedingly flustered. “Uh… Uh… Uh…”

“What is the matter? Speak up at once and be done with it.” She sniped, coldly.

“Are you okay?” He blurted.

Swallowing, she dared test the limits of the man’s knowledge of her condition. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were thrashing around in your sleep. Must’ve had one hell of a nightmare.”

“Yes…” The woman answered slowly, suddenly feeling naked under the sheets cloaked around her. “You disrobed me. Disarmed me as well.” She observed, noticing that not even her prosthetic arm with her.

“Uh, you were badly hurt, but we didn’t undress you. Aranea did, but she’s not so great with first-aid so Ignis helped — he’s blind so he didn’t see—”

So that’s where Highwind deserted off to. A wise decision, the Empire was too preoccupied with its civilization collapsing from within to deal with contracted soldiers going AWOL. “The mercenary found her niche among a merry band of fugitives. Most curious.”

“Hey! Aranea never was one of you Niffs.” The blond protested, jabbing a finger in the commander’s direction. “In fact, you’re the perfect candidate for the Imperial congeniality medal than she ever was.”

Oh Shiva, it would seem that the commodore had gained an admirer. At any rate, Stella wasn’t here to tear apart that statement, not when she was fully aware of where her loyalties lie and her being in the company of fugitives must mean there’s a reason as well.

Stella simply shrugged, to the best that the swordswoman could manage with one arm, and turned her back on the sharpshooter, feigning disinterest.

The blond’s boots stomped out of the tent. “Why did she have to wake up during my turn?”

“His turn?” Stella brought the tip of her thumb to her lips. “Interesting.”


End file.
